Hogsmeade Battle Royale
by Arielle and Judi
Summary: Based on the movie Battle Royale. When Lord Voldemort returns to power, he brings back one of his most diabolical and deadly methods of destruction. Are Harry and the gang safe from the Dark Lord's wrath?
1. Chapter 1: The Hogsmeade Inn, 1981

**Chapter One - The Hogsmeade Inn, 1981**

* * *

  
Hogsmeade was deserted. It was the thirty-first of October in the year nineteen eighty-one, and the streets of the town should have been teeming with joy over Halloween, yet Hogsmeade was completely devoid of life, in every sense of the word.

The little Scottish town of Hogsmeade, of course, was a unique town in the whole of Britain, and it could easily be seen by its many colorful shops: there was Honeydukes, a massive sweets shop that sold smoking candies and levitating sherbets; an old abandoned house dubbed the Shrieking Shack that was once considered to be haunted; and even Dervish & Banges, the new magical oddities shop.

Hogsmeade was the only town in Britain that was inhabited solely by the wizarding community. It was also the favorite location for weekend holidays for the young wizards and witches of nearby Hogwarts School for Wizardry and Witchcraft. In fact, the weekend of the thirty-first of October was the last Hogsmeade trip before the winder holiday, and nearly all of the elder students of the enigmatic school had signed up to go.

And still, Hogsmeade was empty.

A man appeared in the middle of the street, so suddenly that if anyone had been around to see him appear, they would have rubbed their eyes in confusion and sworn he wasn't there a moment ago until they realize he had probably Apparated into the town, a very complicated and tricky form of magic. He was a tall, foreboding man, who, even though he was well over fifty years old, looked quite well preserved, as if being unpleasant and shady-looking caused him not to age. The man was horribly disfigured; his face was bone-white, with dark, beady scarlet eyes and the nose of a snake. He was dressed in a long, black robe with the hood pulled over his head, and as he slithered over the dead body of a girl no older than thirteen, it almost looked like he was floating above the ground.

This man's name, never dared uttered by others of his kind, was Lord Voldemort.

Turning his hideous head from one side to the other, he surveyed the damage the past weekend had inflicted upon the town. The Quidditch Supplies store seemed to have been ransacked, though unsuccessfully, as a dark boy of sixteen still held the Comet Two-Sixty flying broomstick close to his dead, bleeding body. The Apothecary had exploded again, but that was no matter; someone always seemed to build another by the next year. And, once again, the ancient inn had survived, though the Dark Lord doubted that anyone who took refuge within its walls had survived with it.

All in all, it wasn't a particularly bad Battle Royale. He had seen better ones, of course, but this wasn't terrible. He was disappointed that only one child survived; if there were more, he could slaughter them all, an activity in which he took incredible delight.

Finally reaching the inn, the Dark Lord opened the door to the stench of decaying corpses and broken trust. There were three bodies in the check-in room, and a thinned drip of blood from the wooden ceiling marked more contestants upstairs. He looked over to his left; a young couple lie in the corner, their faces frozen, twisted in fear. Their weapons were untouched on the inn's check-in desk; whoever had killed these two had deceived them, tricked the couple into believing he was a friend, and then herded them into a corner and used them for target practice.

Voldemort couldn't find it in himself not to chuckle. _Very devious indeed,_ he thought, _but you do what you must to win the game._ From the body of a young man lying on the floor next to the couple, Muggle machine gun still in hand, the Dark Lord could tell that he had not stood much of a chance after he implemented his trap of death. It was a pity this boy hadn't won the Battle Royale; he would have made a wonderful addition to the Death Eater ranks, and even reminded Voldemort of that quivering, pathetic boy Wormtail, who had so recently given up his close friends, James and Lily Potter, and their young son.

Yes, the Potters...he would have to take care of those meddlesome youngsters soon. He couldn't leave such an important job to one of his minions; he would need to tend to such a..._pleasant_ termination himself.

Perhaps after the Battle Royale commotion dies down, he'd pay the Potters a well-deserved visit.

Voldemort turned to the right, and before his eyes sat a black armchair that was as menacing as its owner. It had dangerous claws clenching their talons for feet, and two mad, gnashing skulls resting on the ends of the armrests, highly excited from all of the bloodshed. Atop the immaculate chair rested a gigantic snake, who took it upon herself to wrap around the strange skull figure on the very top of the throne that had a small, pewter snake slithering its way into the eye socket and out of the gaping mouth - the Dark Mark, the ominous sign of Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord smiled, baring his very un-human fangs as he sat down in the chair, which, despite the carnage lying around it, was untouched by bullets and blood. The Impervius Charm he had performed on his favorite piece of furniture so many years ago still kept it in perfect condition, even after a decade of bloody Battle Royales. He sat straight, yet comfortably, as the snake slipped down to rest on his shoulders.

Giving the beast a caressing pat on the head, he called aloud, as if to no one, "Come to me, Lucius."

Immediately, a hooded man appeared before him, once again proving that while Apparation might not be the safest mode of wizard transportation, it was surely the fastest. "My Lord?" the man asked, his voice strong yet wavering ever so slightly in the presence of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort's face held nothing short of displeasure at Lucius Malfoy's arrival. "I see you once again avoided my Battle Royale, Lucius," he hissed. "Do you not care for my little game? Is that it? Speak up!"

"I was indisposed at the time of the Gathering, my Lord," Malfoy explained. Pulling off his dark hood, he revealed a pale, pointed face, silver-white hair cropped just below his ears, and cold grey eyes that had delighted in too many murders in his time. "I had to supervise Travers in..._interrogating_ the McKinnons." There was a glint of malice in Lucius Malfoy's eyes that implied he and Travers had done far more than simply interrogate the poor family.

"That might explain your absence from the fray this year, Lucius," Voldemort said, his cold expression never faltering. "But you were not with Travers last year as well. Or the year before." The skulls on Voldemort's chair growled as Lucius gulped nervously. "It just seems to me, my boy, that are you trying to avoid Battle Royale each year."

Lucius regained his composure. "I believe that this is a most effective way to exterminate those who might be a threat to us in the future, and I would never question your great wisdom, sir -" he took in a deep breath, "- but I have a son, my Lord: Draco. He is young, yes, but he will grow older, and..." Lucius paused again; it was very difficult to find the right persuasive words that would not land him on the wrong side of Voldemort's Killing Curse. "...I do not wish for the Malfoy bloodline to die in a Battle Royale."

Voldemort's face softened, and if he were known to be capable of it, he would have looked amused. "Is that all?" he asked, sounding disinterested. "You know very well arrangements will be made for all my loyal Death Eaters, in time. Now that's no reason -"

"You don't even know who won, do you." Lucius's voice turned bitter, and for a brief moment he forgot he was speaking to the most powerful and dangerous wizard in the world. He reached into his robe, pulling out a copy of today's _Daily Prophet_. "The whole thing's in the papers. The winner is a third year, sir...the winner is a third year. A boy by the name of...Weasley. William Weasley. A Gryffindor."

Any form of amusement on the Dark Lord's face faded quickly, but he remained silent. Lucius took this as a sign to continue. "He killed three Slytherins, my Lord. And one of them was Avery's son."

"I see," replied Voldemort. He said nothing further; he knew Lucius was furious, and with good reason. Avery was a very prominent Death Eater whose son was a seventh year at Hogwarts. Voldemort had promised all children of Death Eaters the chance to refrain from the Battle Royale as a token of his satisfaction with their parents. Unfortunately, that plan had fallen as swiftly as little William Weasley's sword upon Lionel Avery's skull.

"Sir, we cannot..." Lucius began, but Lord Voldemort silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Avery was a fool." His voice was completely devoid of regret or emotion. "He was directed to instruct his son on avoiding the Gathering; information that young Avery ignored in order to win the Battle Royale for himself. It was his own son's cockiness that caused him to die."

"My Lord -"

Once again, Voldemort cut off his silver-haired minion. "Bring me the paper, Lucius," he said coldly. "Then leave me."

Warily, Lucius held out a trembling hand, clutching his copy of the _Daily Prophet. _Instead of the Dark Lord directly taking the paper, the large snake slithered forward and with a hostile hiss, wrapped her serpent coils around the paper. Returning to her master, the snake gave a final hiss in Lucius Malfoy's direction. With a look of disgust towards the snake, the Death Eater Disapparated from the inn as quickly as he had come.

"_Well done, my pet_," hissed Voldemort, in no language any human would be able to decipher. And if it were prudent for an evil overlord to be delighted, Voldemort would have been at the _Daily Prophet's _front page:

** BLOODSHED ONCE AGAIN  
IN HOGSMEADE**

For the tenth successive year, the town of  
Hogsmeade has been the site of the most  
brutal of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's  
schemes to eliminate all wizards not "worthy"  
of his distorted utopian vision.

Eighty-nine students of the Hogwarts School  
for Wizardry and Witchcraft are presumed  
dead this morning, after a brutal weekend  
of murder within the confines of Hogsmeade.

As reported Saturday, You-Know-Who's fiendish  
plot went into action during a school outing to  
the nearby town, where ninety students were  
kidnapped and forced to slaughter one another  
in the course of three days, leaving only one  
student alive on Monday morning.

This tragic act, which has become known   
as "Battle Royale" by those close to  
You-Know-Who, is not new to the wizarding  
world. Every year for the past decade at  
an unexpected moment, students traveling to  
Hogsmeade from Hogwarts on weekend holiday  
have been captured and forced to participate  
in this bloody ritual. It is unknown how those  
students are forced into the Battle Royale, or  
the exact details of the weekend bloodbath. It  
is also unclear why the Ministry of Magic has  
not been able to prevent a Battle Royale or  
stop one in the process.

"We never know when a Battle Royale will  
commence, and we believe that information  
is only known by You-Know-Who up until  
the day of the Gathering," said Minister of   
Magic Hathor Marmick. "A very  
powerful Border Spell stops anyone from  
entering or leaving Hogsmeade until the   
Battle Royale is finished. After that, it's just  
a matter of contacting parents and  
repairing the damage."

Most past winners of the Battle Royales  
refuse to comment on the horrors that   
go on inside Hogsmeade during those three  
days. Mysteriously, all former winners joined  
the supporters of You-Know-Who shortly after  
their victories.

Although most winners have previously been  
cast in Slytherin House at Hogwarts, this year's  
winner of the Hogsmeade Battle Royale is  
Gryffindor William Weasley, a third year  
in the school. Weasley was unable to comment  
at this time.

"Wonderful," the Dark Lord hissed in amusement. No matter how despicable or vile those wizarding papers made him out to be, he always enjoyed reading about the misery and destruction he and his followers caused. The pure sacrilege of killing children - no, of allowing children to kill each other - was the one act that most disturbed the multitudes, and it was the one in which Voldemort took most pleasure in engaging, for that very reason. "Simply won -"

Voldemort stopped short. A deadly smile passed his cold, white lips. "My son," he said aloud, again as if to no one. "Why don't you step in from the cold?"

It was a dragging three minutes before any movement was made from the doorway of the old inn. Finally a small boy stumbled across the doorway, with flaming red hair clinging to his bloody, tearstained face. His eyes were wet with tears, yet they remained cold and unrelenting. Outstretched before him was a crossbow, steadily aimed at the back of Voldemort's chair. A double-edged sword too large for his small frame was strapped to his back, with the dried blood of Lionel Avery still on its blade. He approached warily, his lower lip trembling slightly.

"Oh, now, don't be shy." Voldemort's tone sounded eerily like a pleasant uncle, reunited with relatives after a spell away from home. "You're in no danger here...William Weasley."

The boy's breath caught in his throat. "H...how do you know who I am?" he asked in a timid voice. He never took his untrained eyes off his mark.

The Dark Lord chuckled. "I know everything, my boy. And I wouldn't shoot that crossbow if I were you," he said sharply, just as young William raised his arm to fire. "I won't be pleased if you damage this chair."

William looked up at the unseen man in shock. How did he know...

"I have powers under my control, William," he continued, answering the young boy's unspoken question. "That you will never learn about in your little _school._"

William's voice grew cold. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want here?"

"It's very simple. I want to congratulate you, William."

A gasp came from the young boy's throat, quickly followed by an ill-concealed sob. He thought of the past weekend, and the pain and violence his fellow students endured - that he helped to dole out. "Congratulate me...on _this_?" he rasped. Above the two, the slow drip of blood from the ceiling ceased; its victim had bled dry.

Voldemort sighed impatiently; it hadn't been that difficult to persuade the other winners. But this William Weasley - it looked like he would be a problem... "You have won the privilege to walk out of Hogsmeade. I must say, you are quite the mighty warrior, Mr. Weasley. I believe you were the one to put that ignorant clod Avery out of his misery...?"

"How dare you!" A loud _clang_ echoed through the wooden room; William had thrown down his crossbow in anger. With a strangled cry of fury and grief, he unsheathed the sword from his back and charged at the figure in the chair, the one who mocked his poor classmates and dared to call him mighty, because he could slaughter them just to survive...

The mysterious figure waved a long, well-used wand in his right hand, producing sputtering green sparks that flew through the air. With a calm command of "stop," William Weasley froze in his tracks, the edge of his sword merely four feet away from the Dark Lord's serpentine skull. His face contorted in anger and frustration; William was powerless to revenge himself on the monster that forced him to murder his friends.

Voldemort smiled at the boy's guilt-driven outburst. "You do have spirit in you, don't you, Weasley?" William could only glare, motionless, at the morbid creator of Battle Royale. "I am pleased with your strategy and strength. And I, the most benevolent Dark Lord, am giving you cherished opportunity to join my crusade. Become a Death Eater, my boy, and you will know what true victory is."

With another wave of green sparks, William was free of the Freezing Bond, and stumbled to the floor. His futile fighting against the charm pushed back on him, knocking him to the ground. The sword slipped from his hold and clattered to the wooden floor, away from William's grasp.

A scowl immediately appeared on his face. "I would sooner die," he rasped, swallowing nervous, shallow breaths of air, "than join you."

There was silence in the air; a heavy silence that filled the room and made the young boy's body fill with dread. An annoyed sigh came from the seat of the chair. The darkest overlord to ever grace his presence upon the wizarding world was most definitely not amused. "I should have known a Gryffindor would never take the best path given to him. But then again..." He trailed off, remembering how easily Wormtail came over to the side of glory. Now, if only Weasley had been that persuadable...but it was too late for that.

"You have made your decision, William Weasely," he said in a definitive tone. William glared up at him in disgust. "Though I am quite disappointed in you. You will walk out of this town alive today, son; but if you do not join with me I cannot guarantee you will have the chance to meet the Dark Lord and live once more."

Voldemort arose from his ornate armchair, his back still facing the boy. He hadn't seen Weasley's face once during the ordeal. "You have sealed your fate. I will be watching you, and you will never be rid of me; I will make sure of that. You will find that no truer words were spoken, Weasley: you will sooner die than to join with me." The Dark Lord was furious. No Battle Royale warrior had ever turned down the chance to become a Death Eater...but little William Weasley was no ordinary Battle Royale winner. If Voldemort could not break the fighting spirit of this boy, then the entire Battle Royale of this year was a wash, and it was truly Voldemort who was the losing party. Vile blood boiled in his veins, and he knew that he needed to vent his frustrations soon. Perhaps his perfect chance to do so would be at the Potter house tonight; he would slaughter them all, and anyone who gets in the way...

And, with a distinctive _pop_!, the Dark Lord vanished from Hogsmeade, leaving the young boy alone in the inn.

The red haired child looked up at the void that Lord Voldemort had once filled, and then down to the bloody sword in shock. Instinctively, he scrambled forward and grasped the hilt of the sword in his right hand, eyes wild and fearful. He pressed the broad side of the blade protectively against his chest, frantically. He saw only bodies; mutilated remains of his friends and fellow students, children just like himself who were forced to grow up too quickly in a world filled with deceit and bloodshed. But their blood did not stain the hands of Lord Voldemort; no, their blood drenched his clothes, covered his body in the shame of murder. He was the only one left alive; he was the one responsible for this carnage.

And then, the young third year known to friends as Bill Weasley, winner of Lord Voldemort's 1981 Battle Royale, screamed.


	2. Chapter 2: The Day Before

Chapter Two - The Day Before

Before we start this chapter, we'd just like to say...we goofed. (Okay, more like ARIELLE goofed.) I wasn't really sure if the Halloween Night, 1981 was canon; meaning, I didn't know if Rowling actualy wrote that the Potters died on Halloween night, 1981, or that someone wrote it in a fanfic and it just took off. Since I was too lazy to look in the books to check, I just made up Christmas Eve and decided to go with it. It's not AU; it's just silly me. *wink*

* * *

_Hands roamed over his sweat glistened body. He could hear his own moans and heavy panting. He took a deep breath as wet warmth closed over his most sensitive area. Biting his bottom lip to keep from screaming, his body arched to get closer to the source of pleasure. He heard and felt the dark low chuckle and moaned at the vibrations it caused. The chuckle came again and a firm lithe body moved up to fit against his own. Sweat soaked strands were gently pushed away from his eyes and he looked up into a pair of blood red eyes. His own green eyes widened and he started to struggle against the firm hold on his body._

His struggle went unnoticed as lips suckled at the base of his neck, causing a strangled moan to escape dry lips. A skilled wet tongue caressed and swept over the suckled area and he moaned frantically. 

"Mmm...good. Give me more, Potter...my Potter."

Sharp teeth lightly brushed his throat while long slender fingers stroked his arousal.

He heard, "You are delicious," right before those sharp teeth dug into the base of his neck. In his mind he heard a faint harsh whisper,

"Mine."

* * *

Harry Potter awoke with a start. Blinking twice, he sat up on his bed. Sighing, he flopped back down and willed himself back to sleep. The next thing he felt was a slim hand shaking him awake.

"Harry, wake up. You know how 'Moine gets when we're late for 'one of the most important meals of the day'."

"Mmm...Go away."

"Okay. You asked for it."

For some blissful minutes, Harry was left in peace. He yelped as cold water was dumped on his head. His eyes blinked open and he glared at the grinning figure of his best friend who held an empty glass in his right hand. 

"I can't believe that worked," Ron commented, "I'll have to tell Fred and George." He turned to put the glass down and missed Harry's smirk. In a blink of an eye Ron Weasley was on his stomach and facing the red and gold-carpeted floor with a heavy weight on his back. He felt Harry flatten himself and shivered as Harry's hot breath tickled his ears,

"If you ever do that again, see what happens to your Chudley Cannon's poster."

"You wouldn't!" he gasped. 

All he got in response was a chuckle and a slap on the butt and a kiss on the side of his neck. He turned his head slightly in the direction of Harry's face and sighed when his lips connected with the soft, smooth surface of Harry's. He made a small sound of distress when those lips pulled away. He turned to see Harry going towards the showers and Neville blushing. His ears reddened and he stood up brushing imaginary wrinkles away as he walked towards the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

The two boys walked into Hogwarts' Great Hall with their other fellow Gryffindor seventh years, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas. Laughing, the five sat down preparing themselves for the morning feast. Ron looked at their friend, Hermione Granger, aghast. 

"What are you doing?!" he asked, horrified. Not looking up and turning the page to a book nearly her size, she muttered, 

"I'm preparing for exams! The N.E.W.T.s are only a month away! You two should start studying as well."

Ron's eyes widened in pure horror and he shook his head violently at her. Harry laughed softly under his breath and looked around the Great Hall. Looking past the professors' table, where Professor McGonagall was in a heated discussion with Hagrid while her student teacher, Fleur Delacour, tried to stifle a yawn and where Professor Snape was glaring at his plate while his own student teacher, Viktor Krum, alternated from glancing at Hermione and listening to the school's Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. Harry's gaze fell on the other houses' tables. At the Ravenclaw table he saw Lisa Turpin, another seventh year, stop talking and blush as she caught his gaze as it traveled. He raised a brow then shrugged as his gaze went past the Hufflepuff table and then stopped at the last house table.

He rolled his eyes then as he watched Draco Malfoy, another seventh year who also happened to be his rival in all things, hold court over the rest of the Slytherins. He smirked as Pansy Parkinson brushed up against Malfoy and the sneer it produced on the blonde's beautiful features. Malfoy's trademark cold grey eyes caught Harry's smirk and giving him a superior look flipped Harry the bird. Scowling, Harry turned back to the conversations at his own table. 

"Surely you won't be studying during the Hogsmeade trip?" Ron was asking Hermione.

"Actually, I think I might pass on this trip." She said, taking a bite out of her toast without pausing in her reading. Her brows furrowed and she highlighted a phrase.

"What?!" Ron shouted. Harry blinked but wasn't at all surprised. Hermione was always thinking about her grades and with their final exams at Hogwarts coming up, she was on the brink of severe obsession. Ron turned to him.

"Tell her how important this trip is! How much it's needed!" Ron implored.

"You two should think of staying as well. It'll do you some good and we could study together." Hermione continued, turning another page. Ron backed his chair away from her as Harry shuddered and quickly said,

"Ron's right, 'Mione. Not only is this our last Hogsmeade trip as Hogwarts students, we also need to release tension. Besides...Viktor is coming."

Hermione looked up and gave him a skeptical glance while failing to cover up her blush. 

"Seriously. We've all been stressed out. What would happen if during our last exam we all collapsed from exhaustion? We would all do so poorly, we'd have to redo our last year." Harry pointed out. Upon hearing this, Hermione froze. The prospect of doing poorly and redoing a year raced through her head and she paled. Closing her book, she nodded gravely.

"Okay. I'll go. Just don't ever say that again," she nearly whispered, shivering.

Ron and Harry grinned at each other. As all the students prepared to leave the hall for their first classes, Ron leaned closer to Harry and whispered,

"You always know what to say," and gave him a soft gentle kiss on the lips. Breaking away, they looked at each other then with identical grins, and ran to catch up to Hermione's hurried steps.

* * *

Harry felt his eyelids flutter and he quickly blinked them open. Stifling a yawn, he looked around the room. The majority of the Hufflepuffs were dozing. Beside him, Ron's head was bobbing up and down, and he could see Seamus and Dean giggling quietly over a piece of paper while they looked around the classroom. They caught Harry's eyes and they gave him a salute and went back to their piece of paper. Harry shrugged. He could distantly hear Professor Binns' droning voice,

"What were the Phooka and what were they known for?"

Harry felt more than saw Hermione's hand shoot up.

"Ms. Granger?"

"The Phooka were Irish goblins. They were famous for being seemingly friendly and in pony form they would give Muggle men rides; however, then the men would be taken out on wild rides that would usually end with the rider in a ditch."

"Correct, Ms. Granger."

Harry's lids finally lost their will and dropped. Still distantly tuned into the lesson, he started to slip into the realm of dreams.

_ "Harry Potter..."_

He turned at the voice that held a strange mixture of smoothness with a hint of a hiss beneath. All he could see around him though were thick trees and he felt a despair never felt before and then extreme pain all around.

"Potter."

He was frozen in place by terror when he felt a cold hand brush his cheek, then travel down his throat. There it lingered and a long bony finger caressed his Adam's apple. The voice spoke again,

"My Potter..."

"Harry!"

His eyes shot open and for a while he felt disorientated. Blinking, he looked at a frowning Hermione and an amused Ron. Ron grinned down at him.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We still have a full day of classes to go to." Ron said, extending a hand to help Harry up. Harry smiled as he looked up at his best friend's grinning face. Taking the offered hand, he lifted himself up and brought Ron and himself nose to nose. Giving him a small kiss on the lips in gratitude, Harry then turned and gathered his books.

* * *

"We will be continuing the lesson on temporarily transfiguring humans into objects. As no one in this class was successful in completing the exercise last class, we will be reviewing the basics. Turn to page 834 in your text. Read through to page 1052 and then try exercise number 2086 with your partner."

The class groaned but quickly paired up and opened their texts. Ron snuck a glance, and upon seeing that Professor McGonagall was busy turned to Harry, who sat next to him.

"Did you read it the first time?" he asked in a whisper.

"Er…sorta…I got through the first hundred pages and I think I drifted off afterwards." Harry replied. 

"Hmmm…that should be good enough, right?"

"You two will do no such thing. What if you try the exercise and something goes wrong? More likely something will go wrong!" Hermione whispered at them, frowning.

Groaning, Ron turned to her. "Shh. Do you want McGonagall to hear? Just because you weren't able to do this last time is no reason to take your frustration out on us."

"Watch it, Weasley," she said glaring. "And if I couldn't do it after reading the assigned pages six times, then how will you be able to by not reading at all?"

"By winging it?" he mocked with a smile. Hermione opened her mouth to respond.

"Ahem. I think I caught up. Ron, you be the test 'dummie,' as it were. Is there a particular object you would like your arm to be?" Harry asked. Hermione and Ron stared at him. 

"What?" Ron asked. Harry gave a long-suffering sigh. 

"The exercise? We're supposed to practice turning an arm into an object." 

"Oh yeah. Well, turn my arm into something cool and useful." Ron exclaimed with a smile. Hermione rolled her eyes turning away. Facing Neville, she muttered under her breath, 

"If only common sense was an object. Would insert it in his head." 

Harry chuckled, then coughed, when Ron glared at him. 

"Er…something cool and useful…I can do that. Let's see…how does this go again? Okay. Ron, stick out your arm and stand really still." Harry said, worrying his bottom lip. Ron gave him a nervous smile. 

"You sure you know what you're doing, Harry?" he asked warily. Harry waved his left hand. 

"Yeah. Pretty sure. Ready?" 

"Yeah…" 

Pointing his wand at Ron's left arm, Harry recited clearly:

_ Flesh of flesh  
Bone of bone  
Turn this arm into a sword  
Muscle to blade  
Shoulder to hilt  
Turn this arm into a sword_

Nothing happened. Ron stared at his arm in relief. "I guess it didn't work." Harry pouted. Ron grinned back. 

"It's ok. W-" 

Ron was interrupted as his left arm began to glow bright red. His face took on a pained expression and he clutched his arm. The class turned to them as Harry cried out, 

"Ron! Are you okay?" 

As Professor McGonagall raced toward them, Ron cried out. The class watched in awe as his left arm slowly changed from flesh to blade. The sword fell with a heavy thud and the rest of Ron's body went with it. 

"Wicked." Seamus whispered. 

Professor McGonagall examined the sword-arm as she helped Ron and Harry place it on a desk. 

"Quite good for a first try. But next time, Harry, try something lighter." Harry blushed and thought he saw a ghost of a smile on the Professor's thin lips.

* * *

There was one slice of pumpkin cake left at the Gryffindor lunch table, and Harry, Hermione, Dean and their fellow Gryffindors covered their smiles as Seamus and Ron stared each other down. Two forks set out towards the piece and the two stared unblinkingly into each other's eyes. With lightning fast movements they reached for the slice…then blinked in surprise and horror when they noticed that the slice was gone. Seamus' eyes widened dramatically, while Ron groaned in sorrow. 

"Wh…what...who…my slice! Who took my slice?!" Seamus sputtered in outrage. Ron's head shot up. 

"_Your_ slice?! That was _my_ slice! Someone took _my_ slice of pumpkin cake!" he cried out. They glared at each other and then surveyed the table. Both sets of eyes widened in horror and disbelief as they settled on the culprit. 

"GINNY?!" 

Ginny looked up and blinked as she swallowed the last bite. 

"Um…yes?" 

The entire table was silent, and then all eyes were on the Gryffindor table as all but three started laughing. Ginny continued to blink in confusion while Seamus and Ron bent their heads in defeat.

* * *

Ron glared into the cauldron that he and Harry were sharing. 

"Is it supposed to be orange?" he whispered to Harry. 

"Eh…I don't think so…" Harry said worrying his bottom lip. He tried to peek into Hermione and Neville's cauldron, but gave up with a sigh. 

"We could always ask Viktor, or…" he shudder, "Snape…" 

"Are you mad? He'd take points from us for just calling him over. Look in the book. It must say something." Ron cried out softly. 

"Well, well, well. Interesting potion you have there, Weasel. Trying to make it match your hair?" 

Ron growled and glared up as Draco walked past, smirking. Harry put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Let it go, Ron. He's not worth it. And anyway, I think I know what we did wrong and how to fix it." 

In the end, it was a very disappointed Snape who left their station. The two boys sighed in relief and winked at Hermione, who shook her head but grinned back.

* * *

"As your final exam for Advanced Defense Against Dark Arts is fast approaching, starting next week we will be doing extensive review." 

The class groaned and Hermione nodded in approval. Professor Sanglant smiled and shook his head at the reaction from his students. He cleared his throat and said, 

"Today, I will ask you to form small groups and come up with questions that you feel would aid you for the review and final. I also expect you to form these groups every night until the final, so choose your group carefully, for these groups will be your source of study." 

The class groaned once more, and heads darted out seeking. Harry, Hermione, and Ron smiled at each other and nodded. Professor Sanglant brought his right hand up to cover a grin. 

"You may group together now. If you have any questions for me, feel free to come up and ask." 

The groups were formed and soon the classroom was filled with laughter and quiet conversations. Professor Sanglant sat down at his desk to read. He was about to turn a page when he heard a rustling sound and a deep groan. He raised a brow and leaned his head towards the door to the classroom when he heard another groan. He glanced around the room to make sure that all was in order inside then he advanced towards the entrance. He paused briefly then slowly turned the knob. There was a loud crash as the door opened wide and several books and papers scattered on the classroom floor. 

The class turned to look at what had caused the commotion, and Ron groaned and covered his face with his hands. On the floor, his younger sister, Ginny and a Gryffindor fourth year, Natalie MacDonald, were sprawled around the various books and scrolls that had fallen with them. Professor Sanglant gave them a gentle smile, then extended one hand to each. They blushed deeply as he helped them rise to their feet. 

"Sorry, Professor." they said in usion. 

"It's all right, girls. Are these for me?" he asked them gesturing down to where the books and scrolls still lay. Their blushes deepened, and they bent down to pick them up. 

"Yes, Professor. Professor Snape sent us to deliver them. He said that he no longer felt the need to have them in his possession." Ginny answered, coming up with half of the material in her arms. Professor Sanglant's brow furrowed, and then he gave a quiet sigh and said, 

"Thank you, girls. You may place them on my desk and please, thank Professor Snape for me. That was very kind of him." 

From their seats, Harry, Hermione and Ron raised a brow and looked at each other. "Kind?" Ron mouthed, smirking. The other two chuckled silently. The class went back to talking amongst the groups as Professor Sanglant went through the scrolls.

* * *

"Ron, they're looking at us again, aren't they?" 

Turning his head slightly, Ron looked behind the station that he was sharing with Harry. He hurriedly turned back with a look of exasperation and nodded. 

Harry groaned and stared hard at the sticks of incense that stood in front of him. With a wicked grin, Ron moved close and whispered, 

"Well, we could give them something to really look at, if you want. Lavender and Parvati wouldn't know what hit them, and it would be oh so much fun." 

Shivering when he felt Ron's warm breath tickling the tips of his ears, Harry flushed slightly and out of the corner of his eyes shot the two girls a quick glance. With a deep sigh of regret he took a step away and shook his head. "And give Trewlaney and the rest of the class something to look at as well?" 

"But what a sight it would be..." Ron said, completely unrepentant. Harry chuckled and started to light the incense sticks. Ron pouted at him, then reluctantly turned to their Advanced Divination text. He waited until Harry had every incense lit and then flipped the page he was on. Harry looked at him expectantly. 

"What next?" he asked. 

"Um...we watch the smoke. We're supposed to concentrate where the smoke from the incenses meet, and write down what we see." Harry gave him a skeptic look and Ron shrugged. "It was either this or do what Lavender and Parvati are doing, Lithomancy. And I don't know about you but looking into gemstones doesn't sound fun and exicting." 

"And this does?" 

"Seamus and Dean took the best one, Geloscopy. That sounded cool. I could have tickle you and from your laughter given you your divine message...and it would have be a perfect excuse to explore a little more of your divine person." His hands brushed against Harry's left thigh and Ron wiggled his eyebrows. Harry laughed and batted the hand away. 

"Since it seems that we're stuck with this one...what's it called? We should at least look, no matter how silly it feels." 

"It's called Libranomancy, and when doesn't anything in this class feel silly?" 

"Heh. True. You go first." 

"ME? Why? Why don't _you_ go first?"

"Becasue you were the one who chose it, so you get to be the one to go first." 

"You know what, Harry? You have one twisted sense of logic." 

"I know. Now start gazing." 

Grumbling, Ron settled down on the stool that they had placed in from the incense sticks. Relaxing his body he gazed at a point near the ceiling where he could see the smoke from the incense meeting. Harry gave a soft smile as he watched Ron. His green gaze traveled to the collar length red hair down to the strong jaw to the where perhaps an inch of skin could be seen from the wizard robes that they wore. His eyes then traveled down the length of Ron's seated body, taking in the familiar muscular build even through the many layers that covered it. His smile softened even more as his eyes once more rested on the freckled face before him. He was startled to meet smiling rich brown eyes and he blushed at Ron's knowing smirk. Hopping off the stool, Ron gave Harry a suggestive smile. Harry coughed and smiled in return. While seating himself on the now empty stool, he asked, 

"So what did you see?" 

"It was an odd shape. Looked more like a dark paw than anything else. While you gaze, I'll look for what the book says about paws, if anything." Ron answered, rolling his eyes. 

Harry gave a little laugh, then settled himself looking at the same point that Ron had. For a long while, all Harry saw was the swirling of the smoke. _This is so stupid_, he thought, sighing inwardly. He continued to stare at the fixed point, trying to make a shape out of the smoke. 

He blinked rapidly. For a moment there, he had thought that he had seen something. He forced himself to concetrate. 

In a blink of an eye, he was no longer in the tower room of Hogwarts. He looked around. Instead, it looked as if he was in a small house. He heard a noise to his right, and without hesistation ran towards the sound. The closer he came to the other room, the more he heard. __

"Run! Get Harry and yourself out of here and to safety!"

Harry put more speed into his run. Someone needed help, and it was someone who knew him. He burst into the scene as a smoky green light filled the room. He heard a female scream and a baby crying. His vision cleared and he saw a male body lying on the floor. He started to take a step forward when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Ron staring at him with concern. He turned once more and looked ahead, but all he saw were the other students concentrating on their tasks.

* * *

"Harry? Ron? What's going on? What happened?"

When neither of them answered, Hermione turned questioning eyes on Seamus, Dean, Lavender and Parvati who shrugged, looking at the two young men with concern. 

"They've been like this since the end of the Advanced Divination. We don't know what is wrong and they won't tell us." Dean answered. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Did Professor Trewlaney say something to them?"

The four shook their heads. "Not really. She predicted Harry's death again, but he's long since brushed that off." Seamus said, biting his bottom lip. Hermione frowned and sat across from her silent friends. Her expression softened, and in a gentle voice she asked,

"Harry? Ron? What's wrong?"

They looked up at her startled. "'Mione! Hi." Ron said with a slightly strained smile. Harry gave her a small smile, then went back to looking at the empty plate in front of him. Hermione opened her mouth to ask once more when Professor Dumbledore stood up and call for attention. When he was sure that all eyes were on him, he cleared his throat and gave a wide smile.

"Another year nearly completed!" he said cheerfully. "And before we all settle into our delicious feast, I would like to say a few words. As final exams are fast approaching, this final trip tomorrow to Hogsmeade is much needed. I hope all those who are going enjoy themselves as well as visit Honeydukes. Just for a reminder, all but seventh years will return with their appointed Professors by eight P.M. tomorrow night. Those seventh years who chose to stay on the overnight trip will be returning three days later. Your house prefects will be hand out the bus lists. Once again, enjoy yourselves!"

The hall erupted in talk as Dumbledore sat back down. Hermione turned back to Ron and Harry, who both had big grins on their faces. She gave them suspicious looks.

"What?" she asked not trusting those grins at all. The grins widened and Harry and Ron shared a suggestive glance. Hermione rolled her eyes and started piling food on her plate. "I don't know why I put up with you two." 

"It's 'cause you love us and you know it."

"Hn." She looked out of the corner of her eyes and saw Ron whisper something in Harry's ear that made the poor boy blush. She smiled and took a sip of her pumpkin juice. She'll find out what had happened later.

* * *

After eating their fill, all the students left the Great Hall towards their house rooms. Ron held Harry back while the others made their way up the stairs leading to the Griffyndor tower. Hermione turned back, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Ron shook his head lightly and smiled. She shook her head and smiled back. Giving him a thumbs up, she continued on her way up. Taking Harry's right hand in his, Ron pulled Harry closer and gave him a loving kiss. Returning the kiss, Harry wrapped his arms around Ron's waist.

"How touching. Gryffindors at play, should we call it?"

They jumped apart and turned towards the sneering voice. Ron's hands fisted and he glared at Draco Malfoy. "What do you want, Malfoy? Lost without your lackeys following you?"

The blonde's pale face reddened in anger, but he casually walked past Ron. He ignored the red head and stopped only when he was mere inches away from Harry's face. "Next time you and your boyfriend feel like groping each other, do it somewhere else." He looked Harry up and down and smirked. "Or else someone might get ideas." He moved closer until their noses touched. Harry quickly stepped back while Ron made an outrage sound. Sneering at Ron, Malfoy started up the stairs.

"Better watch out, Weasel. You're not the only one with eyes on Potter." Winking mockingly at Harry, he continued the rest of the way laughing.

* * *

"The nerve of the guy! Who does Malfoy think he is?!"

"Ron, stopped pacing, and for goodness sake, stop thinking about Malfoy. You're only giving him the satisfaction of riling you up. You're doing exactly what he wants you to do."

Ron paused mid pace and turned to look at Harry. "You think so?"

"YES!"

Harry stifled a grin as Ron's ears turned bright red. Dean, Seamus, and Neville were all glaring at the blushing boy.

"We're trying to sleep, Ron! We'll get Malfoy back during the trip. Now go to bed!"

"Sorry." Ron mumbled under his breath. Harry coughed to cover a laugh as Ron slipped into his bed. He scooted over to make room.

"Goodnight, Ron."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Harry turned and gave Ron a small kiss on the lips and turned around again to settle down to sleep. Silence filled the room with the occasional snore from Neville now and then. Harry was on the brink of sleep when he felt a hand close around his hip. He shivered as the hand traveled down to his thigh. He leaned back against Ron and gave a small gasp as Ron slipped an arm around his waist and brought their hips closer. Eyes squeezed shut and mouth slightly parted, Harry gave a quiet moan as his erection was grabbed and playfully squeezed. He grabbed for his wand, and through only practiced use was he able to mutter the silencing spell around his bed.


	3. Chapter 3 The Carriage Ride

Chapter Three - The Carriage Ride

Okay, so we said that this would be an NC-17 fic. (shh!) Don't tell any one! If fanfiction.net finds out we're skirting the fact that this is a terrible slashy bloodbath, they'll destroy us for sure. But, for now we're just peachy masquerading as an R fic. If anyone has any problems with that, then go back to your safe little H/G fluff fics, you fag. :-P

* * *

Harry awoke the next morning not to the sight of Ron in his bed, but instead to Seamus Finnigan methodically poking him in his side, much to his displeasure. He groaned, and tried to roll away from Seamus's persistent finger, but a searing pain in his forehead erupted, and his hand flew up to his burning scar.

"It's about time y' got up, Harry," Seamus said sunnily. "If you slept any more, you'd be missing the Hogsmeade trip!"

Harry blinked as the blurry image of Seamus Finnigan's head peered into the bed. "Where's Ron?" he asked, reaching over to search for his glasses. The pain from his scar had subsided as he began to grow more alert; did this have anything to do with what he saw in Divination class yesterday? Was something wrong? Was Voldemort nearby? Now he was truly worried about Ron's whereabouts.

"Dean and Neville are already down at the carriages," Seamus replied. "And Ron's in the showers. Now come on!" he said energetically, beaming. "It's the last holiday of the year. You wouldn't want to sleep through it, do you?"

Upon hearing that Ron was in the shower, Harry's spirits perked up immediately - among other things - and before Seamus could utter another word out of his mouth, Harry was out of bed and half-way to the bathrooms.

* * *

"Now, Hermione told us to meet her at the first carriage," Ron informed Harry, once their fruitful shower was over and both were clothed and ready to depart for Hogsmeade. "If only I knew where the first carriage was..." Downstairs at Hogwart's black iron gates, Harry squinted and shielded his eyes from the bright May sun, scanning the bubbling crowd for Hermione. His scar no longer hurt, and he nearly forgot about the incident entirely, considering that Ron had given him quite enough to think about in the showers instead. Twice.

"There!" Finally, Harry spied the bushy-haired girl in the crowd, waving her hands in the air beside a rather shabby-looking coach. Hermione had magically enlarged her "Head Girl" badge the night before - "So that any lowerclassmen who need assistance can find me easily for help," she claimed - and it now the tiny pin was as big as her hand, shining bright and large in the sun. Harry took a hold of Ron's hand - for Ron was rummaging through his bookbag and not paying any attention to Harry - and made a beeline for the first carriage.

When they arrived, Hermione looked slightly annoyed, but excited to say the least. "It was about time you two got down here," she scolded, though she had a hint of a smile on her lips. Harry grinned, because he knew that Hermione probably guessed by now why he and Ron were so late. "I was almost believing that you weren't even coming, and that you dragged me along for absolutely nothing."

"Oh, come now, Hermione," Harry goaded coyly. "We know that you and Viktor would have found something to do without us two in the way."

"She might still," Ron said with a wink.

"You two," Hermione huffed, yet a smile peeking at the sides of her mouth gave away her amusement, "are both insufferable perverts." Hermione looked up to the sky and asked loudly, "Honestly, why do I put up with all these teenage boys?"

"Because you know you love us," Ron answered slyly. "And because we're just so damn alluring."

Hermione smirked, and tried to keep a stern face to no avail. "Just get in the carriage, Weasley," she commanded. Ron, mocking, saluted her. "Viktor and I will be waiting."

"Guess we'd better get on then, right, Harry?" Harry nodded, and took Ron's hand again, more lovingly this time, as the two approached the entrance to the carriage. The old coach looked like it was on its last legs; if, that as it was, the carriage had legs to speak of. Its once bright and vibrant violet paint was chipping from many weathered trips to and from Hogsmeade, and its wooden exterior had the names of endless young wizards and witches before Harry and Ron etched into the grain. Harry smiled at one particular old engraving, which declared "Sirius & Remus" inside a large, misshapen heart.

Before the two could get onto the carriage, a very nervous and haggard-looking Professor Sanglant bustled towards them. His spectacles were nearly falling off of his nose, and both of his arms were laden with textbooks. "Professor!" Harry said. "Are you coming along on the holiday, too?" It was a rare occurrence when a teacher at Hogwarts joined the students for a trip to Hogsmeade, or to anywhere, for that matter. The only other time that a Professor traveled with the children was when Professor Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in Harry's 3rd year, arrived at Hogwarts aboard the Hogwarts Express.

"Only for one night, boys," the professor said. "I just need to pick up a few items from the Apothecary." Sanglant then stepped up on the carriage's first step, carefully balancing the stack of books at each slight movement.

Just then, a horde of fourth-year girls squealed behind them. The girls quickly approached the first carriage, shouting "Professor Sanglant! Professor Sanglant!" to the harried professor.

Sanglant took a deep breath, and said in a friendly voice, "Girls...is there anything wrong?"

The girls giggled, and one of them - Laura Madley, a Hufflepuff - spoke up. "Well, we see you're going on the Hogsmeade trip," she began excitedly. "And, um..." She then seemed to burst with joy. "We'd love to be in your carriage!" The rest of the girls tittered behind her, as Professor Sanglant smiled kindly.

"Of course, girls. That would be all right." An eruption of squeals came from the young teenage girls, and they immediately began to board the first carriage, edging the young professor in as well. Ron and Harry, who watched Sanglant board the carriage along with his fan club, noticed that Ginny Weasley was also in their little group, and bounded cheerfully along after Professor Sanglant.

"Well," Ron pointed out, "At least she's not following you around anymore." He gave Harry a small nudge, which made Harry grin brightly. He answered the redhead with a soft peck on the lips, and began to take the few steps aboard the carriage. Just at that moment, however, someone who had been following Harry as long as Ginny Weasley had - and has been ever since - arrived at the first coach, pushing his way through a band of fifth year Ravenclaws.

"Hiya, Harry!" came the high voice of sixth-year Colin Creevey, Harry's self-proclaimed "number one fan." Colin had followed Harry around ever since second year, and when Colin's younger brother Dennis came into Hogwarts in fourth year, it merely doubled the Creevey annoyance. And, in no time, Dennis Creevey followed suit, having to push through the crowd a little harder than his older and taller brother. Both brothers had identical bright grins upon seeing Harry, and Colin had in hand his Muggle camera, a newer model than his last, which had been incinerated by a basilisk a few years ago.

Harry rolled his eyes and groaned. "Hullo, Colin," he said dully. Ron's face looked quite unhappy. "And hello, Dennis."

Colin smiled brightly. "So you're going on the trip then, eh, Harry?" he asked. Harry gave a weak smile and nodded. "I just can't wait till we get to Hogsmeade; I'd like to try out my new camera!" He displayed the camera to Harry and Ron, who seemed less than interested. "It's brand new, and although I can't get the pictures to move - stupid Muggle technology - they develop right away, right after I've taken them!" He held up the camera to his face. "Can I take a picture of you, Harry? Please?"

Harry grimaced. "Maybe later, Colin," was all he would reply.

Dennis took a quick look at the first carriage. "C'mon, Colin," he said, grabbing hold of his brother's forearm. "You can take pictures of Harry when we're on the coach. It'll add to your collection!"

Colin's face burned a bright red, and as Dennis pulled him away from Ron and Harry, he called after them, "I'll see you on the carriage, Harry!", and disappeared up onto the steps.

"Please," Harry groaned painfully. "Please, tell me we're taking a different coach."

"And have Hermione mad at us for deserting her?" Ron shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, love, but you're going to have to get on this carriage."

"I guess it'll be fine," he said with a smile. "as long as I'm with you." So, with one last heated kiss between the two lovers, Harry broke away and stepped up into the old coach.

* * *

Draco Malfoy swaggered over to the first carriage steps, his hard-headed cronies Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Draco had been sure the night before to wear his Head Boy badge on the Hogsmeade holiday today, just so that his well-placed taunts and insults would hold a special authority during the weekend. Malfoy was looking forward to this Hogsmeade trip; it was to be the last of many Hogsmeade trips that the seventh years of Hogwarts had taken, but in addition to that, his mother had sent him a large sum of money in a recent care package. Draco's head was spinning with all of the possibilities of spending the Galleons in Hogsmeade, all of which dealt with rubbing it all in Ron Weasley's freckled face.

"I think I'll buy that new racing broom first," he declared to Crabbe and Goyle. He was, of course, mentioning the new Exosphere model racing broom that had been released earlier in the year. The exquisite broom, which surpassed even Harry Potter's Firebolt in speed and hairpin-handling, cost a small fortune, and Draco was intent on bringing such an expensive and valuable broom home with him before the weekend was over. He would be a dead man before he would accept that Harry Potter had the best broom in all of Hogwarts.

As the three reached the steps of the first carriage, however, Draco noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye. Crabbe and Goyle had not noticed it, of course - Goyle had stepped in something quite interesting on the way to the coach, and he and Crabbe were now in a heated debate on what exactly the substance was - but Draco had seen it as soon as he reached the carriage. It was a tall, dark figure, who was currently towering over the young students still scuttling around the grounds. It was clothed in a long black cloak, and its face was shrouded in darkness. And it seemed to be looking straight back at Draco.

Draco turned to where Crabbe and Goyle were standing. "Hey, you two lumps," he sneered. "Do you see that? What in the hell do you think it is?" But, as Draco expectantly looked for their answer, he saw that the two burly boys were gone - they had already boarded the coach, and left Draco standing there alone.

Still slightly disturbed about the strange apparition, yet even more annoyed by the disappearance of his goons, Draco hastily stepped onto the carriage's first step, mumbling slightly about how no one could find reliable help these days. But, just as he reached the top of the few stairs, a large hand fell in a tight grip on his shoulder.

He spun around quickly, a sneer on his lips, and turned to face that dark cloaked man, his gloved hand still firmly on his shoulder. The man was close now; so close that Draco's blood chilled from fear in his veins. What did he want from him? He was just about to tell him, in the bravest tone a Slytherin could muster, that accosting a Malfoy and a Hogwarts Head Boy such as himself was most definitely uncalled for, and that he should report this to Dumbeldore immediately, when the man spoke up, in a low and raspy voice.

"Not this coach," he said, pulling Draco down none too gently back onto the ground. "You go on the third coach."

Draco looked at this man in disgust. Did he even know he was speaking to a Malfoy? It mattered not that a strange man had gotten onto Hogwarts grounds, or that he was potentially dangerous or even deadly to Draco and to other students around them. No one told Draco Malfoy what to do.

He began to protest. "But _I_ want to -"

"You go on the third coach."

The man's voice pressed firmer, firmer than Draco's, and it was then that Draco knew this man was not going to just walk away with a stern talking-to. Carefully, Draco began reaching underneath his school robes with his right hand, reaching slowly for his magic wand, when the man spoke up again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you…" the man said, his voice less rough than before. The Slytherin narrowed his eyes; he knew that voice... "...Draco."

The man lifted his head slightly, the darkness surrounding his face instantly disappearing. With a slight gasp, Draco saw the glint of dark gray eyes, and silver-blonde hair identical to his own.

"You..." Draco whispered, both shocked and confused. He wanted to ask more questions, demand more answers, but as soon as the man revealed his identity to the boy, he covered his face again, and spoke no longer. He would not answer any of Draco's questions.

And so Draco Malfoy had no choice but to begrudgingly go to Hogsmeade on the third, not first, carriage.

* * *

Harry and Ron made their way onto the old carriage, already crowded with students from their year as well as other years. The inside of the carriage looked quite different from the outside; the interior of the coach was magicked to expand to nearly three times its appearance on the outside, fitting nearly fifty students inside. The seats, separated into two long rows with a spacious booth in the back, were billowy and comfortable, and showed no sign of wear as the outside had. Luckily, the two were able to find an empty space so that they could sit together. Harry was just about to comment on their good fortune, when he took a glance to his right, and saw that he and Ron were seated across from Dennis and Colin Creevey. Dennis smiled and waved energetically, while his older brother snapped a quick photograph with his new, modern camera. Harry wondered if they were the main reason why the seat across from them was empty.

Settling into the seat next to the aisle - and silently scorning Ron for first scrambling into the window-side seat, away from the Creevey brothers - Harry looked around the bus to find Hermione and his other friends. He didn't see Hermione sitting in any of the seats, but he noticed an empty space in front of Colin that held a rather large Muggle backpack and a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ on the seat, meaning that no one other than Hermione would be sitting there.

His eyes roamed across the crowded carriage to its other inhabitants. The coach was mostly filled with seventh years, but a few fourth year girls had planted themselves in the back of the carriage, along with Professor Sanglant, who seemed to have been persuaded to play "Rock, Paper, Scissors" with the girls. He turned his head to peek up at the front of the coach, where Neville sat slunched back in his seat, snoring soundly. Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum were in the front as well. Harry caught a glimpse of Hermione in the aisle, talking with Krum and looking quite unhappy that he was sitting next to Fleur instead of her. He smiled warmly at Seamus and Dean, who were seated behind Colin and Dennis, and Seamus waved back energetically; Dean seemed to be engrossed in his drawing pad, and didn't notice Harry at all.

Harry frowned as he noticed a line of gruff-looking Slytherins sitting in front of Sanglant and the group of girls, all being rather rowdy and creating a nuisance. Pansy Parkinson was looking into a compact and refreshing her makeup, while Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were magically making the seat in front of them bite its residents on the bums. He was just about to wonder why Malfoy wasn't on the coach when his two bodyguards were, when a gentle hand fell upon his shoulder.

The bespectacled teen turned to Ron, who had a concerned look in his caramel eyes. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

He smiled at Ron's thoughtfulness, and covered the freckled hand on his shoulder with his own. "I was just thinking," he said softly. "how wonderful this weekend is going to be."

Ron's lips matched Harry's grin, and soon Harry found those grinning lips upon his own, kissing fiercely despite the many students on the coach that could have spied the two snogging in clear daylight. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, as he moaned shamelessly into Ron's mouth, allowing for his tongue to slip inside and mingle with his. It came to the point where Harry nearly lost his hands in Ron's copper hair - and nearly had forgotten where he was, where he was going, and how many people were around the two at the time - and Harry mused that Ron tasted faintly like the refreshing peppermint toads sold in Honeydukes. The thought of the large Honeydukes sweet shop brought Harry back to his senses, and broke away - albeit sadly - from Ron's kiss.

"Fred and George!" Harry exclaimed once his lips were unoccupied. Ron gave him a confused glance.

"Love," he said warily. "Why are you thinking of my brothers when I'm kissing you? That's not much of a turn-on for me..."

Harry chuckled, and gave Ron a polite cuff on the shoulder. "No, you silly," he said. "I had nearly forgotten about Fred and George's joke shop in Hogsmeade." Fred and George, who had graduated from Hogwarts two years ago, had just recently opened their dream-store, _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_, in the place of old Zonko's Joke Shop, which closed down due to rumors regarding illegal enchantments on Muggle whoopee cushions. Using the thousand-Galleon prize money Harry had won in the Triwizard Tournament, the twins joined up with Lee Jordan to found the new shop.

"I can't wait to see them again," Harry continued excitedly. He hadn't seen the pair since the last summer holiday at the Burrow, and it was unsettling to walk through the halls of Hogwarts without the sounds of the twins' patented booby-traps exploding upon unsuspecting passersby. "And Lee, too. Maybe they'll even give us a few tricks for free."

"All this talk about my brothers and Lee Jordan..." Ron said, snaking his arms around Harry's slender waist. "And I thought we were going to have a little time alone together this weekend."

Ron pouted, and Harry brought his face closer to this. "Don't worry, darling," he cooed into the redhead's ear, making shivers of pleasure run down his spine. "We can see Fred, George and Lee during the day." He lovingly kissed the tip of Ron's freckled nose. "And we'll have the whole night to ourselves."

"That," Ron said, smiling, "sounds like a much better plan." Contented, Harry rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, and Ron hugged him closer. Absently, as the redhead was quickly losing himself in the gentle scent of Harry's hair, he said aloud, "I wonder what those three are doing right now."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the bustling town to which the carriages were about to depart, George Weasley, Fred Weasley, and Lee Jordan were quite far from having the fun that Harry and Ron believed they would. For today, the dreadlocked boy was high atop a ladder in transfixed concentration, inside the new joke shop, _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_, while the two twins frowned below.

"Honestly, Lee," Fred whined. "Can't you come down from there yet? We're so bored without you."

"If I remember correctly, Fred dear," Lee said, not taking his attentions off of the small white box above the store's front door. "You two were the ones to ask me to put in a Muggle burglar alarm for the shop. So don't start complaining now."

"It didn't take us this long to set up our Protection Spells," George said.

"Or the booby traps," Fred piped up, a glint of mischief in his eyes at the mention of booby traps.

The dark boy sighed as he picked out a screwdriver from mid-air - he had, of course, charmed his Muggle tools to levitate for easy handling. "If you put those spells and traps in so quickly, I'm hoping they actually work when the need arises." He attached a blue wire to a green one expertly. "Unfortunately, Muggle technology is much more complicated than that. I'm just glad I found that generator. I can't believe there isn't even one electrical source in all of Hogsmeade!"

George shook his head as Lee returned to his work, and turned to his twin. "He had to be a half-blood," he said with a smirk.

Fred matched the smile. "And a comtuper whiz at that," he added, ignoring Lee's shouting correction of "com_pu_ter!" from above. He looked back up at Lee and yelled, "If you didn't know all this crazy Muggle stuff, we could be having some fun right now!"

Lee rolled his eyes as he placed another computer chip in place. "And just what did you have in mind?" he asked, his gaze falling down to the brothers on the ground. Fred whispered into George's ear, beyond Lee's earshot. Whatever Fred seemed to be whispering, he deduced, it was either quite amusing or quite perverted, for George chuckled and cleverly hid a mischievous grin.

"Oh, you know what we have in mind, love," Fred said wickedly, as George continued to try holding in his laughter, without effective results.

He rolled his eyes again, yet couldn't help smiling at the twins' eager, yet well-intended, thoughts. Then, with a satisfied smirk to himself, Lee snapped the white box's cover back onto the burglar alarm system. "There!" he exclaimed happily. "Almost finished. We are now the only store in Hogsmeade with a Muggle alarm system!" Lee remained silent for a few seconds, waiting for a response from the redheads below. When he heard nothing but a dejected yawn from George, he went back to his work with a half-smirk. He knew just how to wake those two dunderheads up. "Now all I need to do is put in the date, and then," he shot a mischievous glance to the floor, "we'll have some fun."

The twins' moods instantly perked up. "I'll get the egg beater!" George exclaimed.

"I'll get the turkey baster!" Fred piped up.

As the two redheads bounded away upstairs to retrieve the aforementioned objects - which Lee already knew what they would be used for - the dreadlocked boy called after them. "Hey!" he hollered. "Will one of you wait long enough to give me the date?"

"The twenty-first of May, Lee," Fred shouted from the kitchen. "Isn't that right, George?"

"That's right, Fred," came the voice from the pantry, followed immediately by "Ouch! Bloody egg beater!"

Lee couldn't help but laugh at his good-natured companions. "Twenty-first of May it is, then." He punched in the numbers on the installed keypad, then went into thought. "The twenty-first of May?" he asked aloud to himself. Why did that sound so familiar? "Oi! I've got it!" The black boy snapped his fingers in triumph, but in doing so, caused all the tools that were floating in the air to crash onto the floor, nearly on top of the returning Weasley twins' heads.

"Hey, watch where you're snapping, Jordan!" George said, as he picked up a pair of pliers from the ground. "Y'could really hurt somebody, you know?"

"But I just remembered!" he said with excitement in his voice. "They're having a holiday this weekend from Hogwarts. Nearly the whole school's gonna show up!"

"More students means more sales," Fred pointed out.

"And more impressionable minds to corrupt," said George with an evil gleam in his eye.

"I'd really like to speak to Dean Thomas," Lee said, coming down slowly from the ladder. "He can check out the alarm system with me; maybe get the kinks out." Hopping down from the ladder's last rung, Lee stepped briskly by the twins, passing them, and went over to the pantry much to their surprise.

"We wouldn't mind seeing Ron and Harry," Fred snickered. "We could let them test out all the booby traps."

"Well, since they'll all probably be here in a few hours," Lee's voice floated from the pantry. "Let's make the best of the time we've got!"

And, emerging from the pantry, came Lee Jordan carrying a container full of a thick, light red substance. "I've got the strawberry syrup." And, with one glance wicked enough to rival the twins', he declared excitedly, "Race you to the bedroom!" before bounding up the stairs.

Fred and George, with egg beater and turkey baster in hand, shared a quick smile before following close behind.

* * *

The first carriage began to slowly lurch forward, beginning their last holiday to Hogsmeade. Harry was definitely ready for it, however; he had brought something very special with him in his pack, and he hoped to give it to Ron when they arrived. What he hadn't brought with him, however, was his Invisibility Cloak - given to him by his father - nor did he bring his trusty Firebolt racing broom. There were many other times he'd been in Hogsmeade where he used both these items: flying high above the steeped roofs of the town on his broomstick, away from everything else; and he made mischief with his cloak, sneaking into Honeyduke's and throwing mud at pesky Slytherins. But this holiday, Harry planned to keep a very low profile; no flying, no mischief. He was going to have a nice, romantic weekend with Ron before final exams, and he wouldn't be needing any brooms or cloaks to do so. And besides, if Hermione thought he would use the Invisibility Cloak to get revenge on Malfoy and his cronies again, the Head Girl would most definitely not be pleased.

Hermione traveled back to her seat as the coach began to move, and it was purely evident from the scowl on her face that her mood had changed from earlier in the morning. Mumbling something about the inferior French, she plopped down into her seat, next to her copy of _Hogwarts, A History_. Harry wasn't sure why she had brought the gigantic text with her if she had expected to spend the weekend with Viktor, but from the looks of things now, she might have more time to herself than expected.

"Trouble in paradise, 'Mione?" Harry questioned. Hermione tried to keep a strong front, but she looked downtrodden, and her lower lip was pouting fiercely.

"The stupid lout," she was referring to Viktor, "Just because he's an assistant professor, he thinks it's his obligation to sit at the front of the coach. Next to _her_," she seethed. "I have a position of high responsibility, too; you don't see me sitting in the front. Stupid lout," she said again, under her breath.

She turned to Ron and Harry and pouted. "I wish I had a relationship like you two," she said wistfully. "You always seem so...happy. What's your secret?"

Ron slung a loving arm around Harry's shoulders. "Six long years of being best friends," he replied.

"And six long months of being more," Harry added, giving the redhead a quick peck on the lips.

"Six months? Oh, that's right!" Hermione perked up, and her mood instantly changed from despondent to anxious. She turned her attentions to Ron with excitement. "Did you give it to him yet?"

Harry looked confused. He turned to look at Hermione, then at Ron. "Give me?" he asked. "Give me what?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, great, Hermione," he scowled at the witch. "Ruin the surprise!"

"Surprise?" Now Harry was more than just confused; he was downright curious. "Is this for our anniversary, Ron?" he asked, just as anxious as Hermione. It was the two boys' six-month anniversary of being lovers, and Harry had gotten Ron something for the occasion, although he was going to give him the true present that night in their room together...and give it to him for the rest of the weekend as well.

"Well, I was going to wait until we got to the inn..." Ron reached for his pack, which was scrunched up against the carriage wall. "...but I guess since Hermione's spoiled the surprise..."

Hermione spoke up. "Well, I wanted to see Harry's reaction!" she protested. "I would have never seen it if you gave it to him in private."

Harry was more anxious than ever. He loved getting surprises, and a surprise from Ron was even better. "Oh, I'd love to see it now, Ron!" he said, trying to hold in his excitement but failed. "I'll give you your present now, too...though I would have rather waited until we got to the inn..."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. "Perhaps I shouldn't be watching this..." she said jokingly, and opened her book, pretending to read. Harry smirked; he and Ron weren't the only perverts on this carriage.

The redhead nodded, and rummaged through his pack. He pulled out a small hand mirror, and handed it to a now perplexed Harry. "Happy anniversary, love." The mirror was small, but finely decorated; its tiny pane of glass was set in iron, dressed in rich silver gilt. It was etched on the back into an elaborate, loopy design that stretched down to its long, tapered handle. It all centered around a small yet brilliant garnet stone in the middle. It was exquisite, yes, but Harry wondered why Ron was giving this to him, out of all things. He faintly remembered seeing a mirror like this while window-shopping in Diagon Alley last summer, but he and Ron weren't even seeing each other then, and out of the three friends, Hermione was the one who liked the mirror best.

"It's...it's beautiful," he said, marveling at the handiwork that couldn't possibly have been done by Muggles. "But Ron, I...I don't understand...why are you giving this to me?"

"Go on, tell him!" Hermione urged, seeming more excited about the gift than Harry. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at the Head Girl, but then Ron began to speak, and so he turned to him, listening intently.

"There's this old witches' tale about a mirror," he began. "If you put a mirror under your pillow at night, your true love will appear in your dreams."

"I thought you didn't believe in old witches' tales," Harry noted. He was still fingering the mirror gingerly.

Ron smiled with acknowledgment. "I don't, usually!" He took Harry's hand on his, and spoke softly. "But I had to know. I had to know if my feelings for you were true..."

"I understand," Harry whispered.

He nodded, and continued. "So I borrowed a mirror from Hermione -"

"When he told me what he was using it for, I gladly gave it to him," Hermione piped up, pleased that she had a hand in forming this wonderful relationship before her.

The two lovers returned their gazes to each other, their hands still clasped together lovingly. "And, of course, I saw you." Ron smiled warmly. "And I knew, that you were my true love. That was six months ago, Harry." He inched his face closer to Harry's, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "And look at all that this little mirror has done for us."

"This is such a wonderful gift, Ron," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible above the nearly chaotic nose all around the boys. "Thank you..." He gave his red-haired lover a long, lingering kiss. "...for everything."

"And?" Ron had a sly smile on his face.

"I love it."

"And?"

"I love you."

"And?"

"You...have a nice arse?" Harry said, confused. Hermione snickered.

Ron's expression turned to mock hurt. "What about my present, you ninny!?" he said, pretending to pout. Of course! Harry was so moved by Ron's gift, he nearly forgot about his own. He felt it would be a little dull after seeing Ron's gift. He thought of asking to give it to him at the inn, but then Hermione would complain. So, reluctantly Harry pulled the small bag out of his pack, and handed it over to Ron.

The transparent, cellophane bag wasn't that decorative; it was rather plain, and closed off at the top with a simple white ribbon, tied expertly into a bow. Ron could see inside a dish filled with small cookies, delicately frosted and individually placed into the bag with care.

"They're just cookies," Harry immediately began to explain himself and his gift. "No magic or anything. I snuck into the kitchens and baked them myself...I'm not sure if they're too sweet or not, the house-elves only had extra-strength sugar crystals handy -"

"Harry." Ron stopped Harry's ramblings with a soft word and an even softer kiss. "It's the most beautiful gift I've ever gotten."

He smiled warmly at his boyfriend and whispered softly, as Ron had said to him the day before, "You always know what to say."

Ron matched his loving smile, and went straightaway to opening the bag. He pulled this delicate ribbon off the top of the wrapping with precision, but before he could reach in to take one of the enticing cookies, the entire bag was snatched from his hands from behind.

All three wizards shot their heads up to find the thief. Their faces then turned from shock as they witnessed the culprit. Hermione uttered a groan; Harry's face turned to a grimace; Ron's smile curved down into a scowl.

It was Ginny. She had grown bored of playing "Rock, Paper, Scissors" with Professor Sanglant and her friends, and so had snuck into the seat directly behind Ron and Harry. She took a quick glance at the contents of the bag, and with a delighted squeal of "Ooo! Cookies!", she opened the bag and popped one of them in her mouth. She didn't even notice the looks on her friends' faces until she took a glance over at Ron, who looked just about ready to strangle her.

"What's wrong?" She asked innocently, still munching on the bite-sized cookie. Ron's ears were red with anger, yet he didn't lash out. It was his little sister, after all; if he killed her on the carriage ride for stealing and eating his anniversary gift, how would he ever explain himself to his mother?

Instead, he only sighed, and said to Ginny through gritted teeth, "Why are you always stealing my food?"

Ginny blinked in confusion. "This was yours?" She held up the bag, taking her hand out of the cellophane wrap; she was about to go and take another, but thought better of it.

Harry nodded glumly. "I gave those to Ron for our anniversary, Ginny," he explained.

The red-haired girl frowned. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry!" she said. I didn't know they were any kind of special cookies, or anything like that." Harry didn't know why, but he felt that Ginny's apology reeked of insincerity. She turned to Ron, who now went from scowling to genuine pouting, and presented the bag back to him. "Here, Ron; I'm so sorry I took them from you." Ron took the cookies back, but his mood was now slightly soured.

His disposition most surely did not improve, either, with what happened next. It was then that Colin Creevey popped out of his seat, his camera in hand. "Hey, Harry!" said he, as excited as ever. "Can I take your picture now, can I?" Harry opened his mouth, ready to shoot down the sixth year as nicely as possible, but Hermione beat him to it. She stood up in the coach and took a look at Colin's camera.

"My, is that one of those instant cameras, Colin?" she asked, examining it. "This is pretty expensive, and top-of-the-line." Next to Colin, Hermione was probably the most knowledgeable wizard about cameras on the carriage; considering, she was the most knowledgeable wizard in anything there. Then, she got an idea. "You know what? Why don't you take a photo of all four of us?" she asked, pointing to Ron, Harry, Ginny, and herself.

"You mean all three of us," Ron said, glaring at his sister. Ginny huffed, both hurt and angered by her brother's coolness towards her, and left in a hurry back to her friends.

Colin looked rather saddened by the thought that he wouldn't get a picture strictly of Harry, but he obliged nonetheless. "All right," he said, holding the camera up to his face. "Get ready!" Hermione scooted over to sit with Ron and Harry and smiled. Hermione's presence squished Harry into the seat slightly, but not uncomfortably, and he did his best to smile. Ron lifted himself up on his knees on the seat, so that his head could be seen above Harry and Hermione's. He grinned happily, his mood suddenly lightened, as he wrapped one arm around Harry's shoulders and formed a peace sign with his other hand. The three wizards looked right in their element, and when Colin said, "Say cheese!", the three friends couldn't have looked more alive.

"Let's see! Let's see!" said Ron excitedly. He was amazed the Muggles could create such a magical, advanced piece of equipment. They crowded around the fast-developing photograph, eager to see how the shot came out. As the forms took shape and the three figures focused, Ron saw Harry and Hermione's faces smiling happily, yet his own head was cut out of the picture. Only his arm could be seen, slung over Harry's shoulders. Ron's face contorted in upset, and he exclaimed loudly,

"I'm hardly in it!"

He sat back in the seat, in a more upset mood than ever. Hermione clicked her tongue at the photo in disappointment. Colin looked at the picture, and thought that cutting Ron out of the frame was a great improvement. Harry frowned, and took the picture from Colin. He felt terrible that this holiday was setting off so badly for Ron.

"It's all right, love," Harry said soothingly, handing him the photograph. Ron said nothing, still pouting, yet he took the picture and placed it in his breast pocket. "And it will be all right," he added, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "As long as I'm with you." The redhead probably wouldn't admit to it later, but Harry saw Ron's spirits perk slightly, as a half-smile crossed his freckled face.

A loud yawn came from Hermione's mouth, and she announced, "I don't know about you two, but I feel just about ready for a nap." She shifted back to her seat, sat back in the cushiony chair, and closed her eyes. "Wake me at Hogsmeade," she instructed Harry and Ron, and the fell quickly asleep.

Harry thought it was slightly odd for Hermione to fall to sleep on the carriage ride, considering it hadn't been that long ago that they departed from Hogwarts. He looked around, though, and saw that many of his schoolmates were also asleep: Dean and Seamus slept soundly next to each other, and Colin Creevey clutched his camera tightly while in dreams. He felt a head fall onto his shoulder, and looked down to see a drowsy Ron upon him.

"Hermione seems to have the right idea," he yawned. "I think I'll just...rest up for tonight..."

He smiled at Ron's parting words, before the redhead joined the rest of the bus in slumber. Harry felt himself subconsciously yawn, and he knew that he would not be long after Ron. _I didn't get enough sleep last night, I'll bet, _he thought to himself as he eased himself into his lover's dormant arms. He'd just have a short nap, and be fully rested as they arrived in Hogsmeade...

Harry Potter fell asleep, his last waking thoughts on the great time he and his friends were about to have on this, their final trip to Hogsmeade. 


End file.
